


Lady Kumquat Marmalade

by afterdinnerminx



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterdinnerminx/pseuds/afterdinnerminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of silliness inspired by my favorite two words as uttered from Aunt P's lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady Kumquat Marmalade

Miss Dorothy Williams is a good girl. A good maid and a good friend. She stays away from the troublesome modern devices that tempt people into…well…bringing about the end of the world, for one. She has miraculously been able to ward off the advances of the handsy Mr. Edwards.

And, she knits!

All in all, Miss Dorothy Williams is practically perfect.

Her secret weakness, however, is in nipping away at little bits of jams or jellies scooped up from teaspoons. Today, she pilfered a pot of kumquat marmalade. Not the entire pot, of course. Just enough to fill up the divot in a tea cup saucer.

…Knit-knit-knit-knit  
Pause  
Bring the teaspoon with a taste - the smallest of tastes and a little of the candied rind - to her lips.  
Purl-purl-purl-purl…

_Alice is really going to love these little boots_ , thinks Dot. _Babies are so precious. The color is a perfect baby butter yellow. A boy baby or a girl baby could wear them with pride. No…not pride. Pride is a sin_. It occurred to her that Alice would have some trouble if she ended up having twins. Then, she realized that since she and Alice were such good friends - and since she was such a fast knitter - a second set could be made lickity split.

_Would you look at that. I just need to add the little bow tie and these are done! Now, if I could just persuade Cook to help me plan a baby shower!_

She swept her finger around the saucer to capture the rest of her sweet treat on her finger before gathering up the second-hand tea service and bringing it to the kitchen.

~LKM~

“Lydia.” Mr. John Andrews looked pointedly at his wife.

“Hmmm?” Mrs. Lydia Andrews was pointedly ignoring her husband.

“ _Lydia_ , would you pass the kumquat marmalade?” John tried again. Exasperated. He didn’t know he had gone afoul of the lady sitting beside him. She’s been surly. Uncommunicative. Ghastly. _Frigid_. No wonder he’s had to look elsewhere for affection. Up until his affair, for surely if that wasn’t an affair of the heart, there wasn’t such a thing, he’d been faithful. Except, with that girl behind the tree last year. And, the twins at the hospital. For, something like, eighteen months. There might have been a few more but that is hardly the point.

Lydia held up the heaping bowlful of confection, her visage was that of an aging ingenue. “Is this what you requested, my love?” The affectionate term was bandied about so spitefully, he almost wondered if he should be genuinely worried about something. “Oh _please_ , why don’t you let me fix your toast for you like I used to? I know how you like it, after all.”

She picked up a triangle of cooling toast with disdain, holding the surface horizontal. With her other hand, she scooped a mere trickle of the marmalade onto the spoon and flicked it so that it landed on the toast with an inaudible splat. She tossed the now dressed toast towards John’s breakfast plate, where it skimmed across the flat surface and tipped over the far edge, coming to rest at a steep angle, much like the bow of the Titanic when it sank. Lydia proceeded to bring the spoon to her mouth, licking both sides of the spoon with the flat, plump surface of her tongue, staring at him in challenge. “Is that enough for your dear? I can’t imagine you’d need any more than that.” And, she placed the almost full bowl of marmalade several arm’s lengths away from the far side of her husband.

John grimaced, heaping additional spoonfuls of sugar into his morning tea.

_Bitch_.

Sadly, that was one of the last words he’d ever thought to think of. In fact, it was only followed by _Ow_.

~LKM~

Phryne, looking lovely and fresh in her scandalously wispy pink and red frock, had come into the parlor to reluctantly meet with her dear Aunt Prudence after hearing about the unfortunate death of the husband of one of her oldest friends. “Now what on earth happened here?”

“Now, I’m not one to _pry_ ,” said Aunt Prudence meaningfully, expressing clearly (whether she meant to or not) that she was quite aware that she was eavesdropping and that her niece should not think to challenge her on the supposition that she might have done such a thing on purpose, “but I couldn’t help overhearing in the hallway,” Phryne raised an eyebrow in challenge - the one Aunt P chose to ignore - and waited for the story to continue. “It seems that John collapsed after a light breakfast of tea and a light breakfast of…kumquat marmalade toast.” The last three words rolled succulently off her tongue. It was like she had forgotten all about the scandal of the man collapsing in lieu of the memory of the sweet, floral ambrosia spread thickly on a freshly baked slab of toast or, perhaps, a scone. It would be served on the most respectable kind of pristine china that only the finest families who have separate services for each meal would have.

The next hour or so passed in a blur of rude inspectors arriving, incompetent maids dropping serviette’s, gracious society ladies - meaning Aunt Prudence, herself - lending a hand to take over fund-raising events. On the way out, Prudence got the ear of some servant type and asked if the household might have an extra jar of kumquat marmalade that she could take with her. Unopened, of course. It wouldn’t be right that she should take the opened jar. “Oh, and bring one for my niece as well. She’s helping with the fundraising event for the evening.”

_After all_ , Prudence thought, _if Phryne doesn’t want it, I’m sure I could give it a good home._

~LKM~

“Here darling, this marmalade goes quite nicely with the nerve tonic.” Phryne dipped her index finger directly into the glass jar with her index finger, washing a gooey remnant of the delicious but sickly sweet concoction on the doctor’s upper front teeth. Elizabeth Macmillan maintained her smile or, rather, kept her teeth exposed, to allow Phryne to dip the same finger atop the open pink sachet to gather up some white dust before again bringing her finger to the doctor’s mouth in a rather unladylike fashion. Mac grabbed Phryne’s hand, running her tongue over the white powder, then sucking Phryne’s finger into her mouth like it was a red and white striped candy cane.

“Yes. I concur, Phryne. The flavors are settling together quite together quite nicely. Only one thing would make it better.” Mac leaned over, capturing Phryne’s lower lip neatly before swiping the seam of Phryne’s mouth, letting the third flavor mingle together with the first two.

Mac sat back abruptly, smirking. Her arm swung to the lip of the couch behind her. “Now, that was _delicious_.”

Their talk of wandering wombs picked up and, presumably, walked somewhere when someone at the door knocked. “Excuse me, Dr. MacMillan. The Women’s Hospital telephoned.”

On her way out, Mac looked back of her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be able to…”

“I’ll see if I can get you another jar tonight. For further research purposes.”

Mac winked at her friend, donned her hat and left Phryne’s far too kempt hotel room.

~LKM~

“I’m s…so sorry, Miss Fisher, but I didn’t know where else to go.” A pitiful but sweet looking woman stood in the doorframe, peeking in politely before following Phryne’s lead to enter the room.

The young lady made herself helpful at once by finding, and later retrieving, the missing Mary Jane shoe that somehow became perched in the chandelier before Phryne suggested that Miss Williams share her sordid story over toast.

Miss Williams was glad to have the toast but here eyes grew wide upon seeing the jar of kumquat marmalade sitting on the breakfast tray. She stunned herself with the speed in which she continued to make herself essential to the glamorous woman in front of her. Her placement with the Andrews' household may be in the past but her favorite treat is sitting … right … there.

Yes. She could learn how to pick up a ringing telephone. Sure. Yes. Absolutely.

~LKM~

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson arrived back at his desk after, perhaps, three hours of sleep the previous night. Those three hours were filled with thoughts of dripping Cleopatra’s in bath towels, parties with bright red cocktails served in champagne glasses, young ladies wearing gray dresses and lace pinafores, and exploding bathhouses. The last thing he expected - or wanted - to see was a handwritten invitation to the Windsor Tea Room. It was accompanied with a small glass jar labeled “Kumquat Marmalade.” And, for no apparent reason whatsoever, the label was marked with a scarlet red kiss.

The inspector moved to the seat behind his desk. Put his foot up comfortably. He sat there for a minute and then brought his index finger and thumb up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It is too early for headache powders and far too early for a drink.

~LKM~

Cook opened the pantry, looked inside at the shelf with jams, jellies, preserves, conserves, and marmalades. “I just made a damn batch of the godawful concoction. How the hell is every last jar gone missing?” She slammed the door to the pantry before re-opening it quickly, as if the jars would magically reappear.

“What’s wrong, Cook?” asked the Andrews’ chauffeur Gregory Barnes.

“Sometimes, it ain’t the maids we need to keep from disappearing. It’s that damn kumquat marmalade. You know what a bitch it is to peel the skin off those fuckers?”

Mr. Barnes wanted to chide Cook for her inappropriate, if not impassioned, use of colorful language. But, quite frankly, he was much more worried about getting his next marmalade fix.


End file.
